Honourable
by woundedbutterfly
Summary: Casey Novak has always had responsibilities to honour, but what happens when those responsibilities become twofold and tug in two opposite directions? Then, doing the honourable thing doesn't come so easy...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own law and order, or any of the characters, though I do presently own a longing to own a meerkat._

**Synopsis**

_Honor. It's relative. It means many different things to many different people. Casey Novak has always had responsibilities to honour, but what happens when those responsibilities become twofold and tug in two opposite directions?_

_Then, doing the honourable thing doesn't come so easy._

**A/N So yeah, I really should update my other fics. So sue me. I have written some ninja chapters for them, however, they are way too far ahead in the story timeline so I need to write back to them. Bear with me!**

**Anyhoo, I wrote this sometime ago and decided I should expose it to the general public. It's something a little different, I'll freely admit I'm not precisely sure where it will lead, but, hey. I needed to post something! I haven't settled on any pairings as of yet, so I'm very open to any suggestions you lovely folk might have, I am all ears (so long as it's not EO…no disrespect to the pairing, I just don't write it, never will, too many other people do it, and in a far better way than I ever could). Also, since I'm not dead set on the plot, anything you'd like to see happen, challenge me to add it in. I'll find a way. Unless it involves badgers. **

**Ahem. I'll shut up now. On with the story!**

**Chapter one: Life and its convenient parables**

Sitting atop the concrete and behemoth skyscraper, wind stinging cold against her ashen cheeks, feet dangling over the edge toward an insurmountable drop to the hurrying streets below, Casey felt like a kid again; sitting on a dinner table chair, tiny legs unable to do anything other than kick futilely against air until a parent scooped her up, or she summoned the guts to take matters into her own hands and take the plunge.

In so many ways, Casey was in exactly the same situation now, scaled up to adult size.

Life and its fucking convenient parables.

In the absence of a suitable ash tray, Casey allowed the cigarette butt to flitter away into the wind, gliding in every which direction but inexorably downward as it rode conflicting wind streams. Sure she was littering. Casey Novak, an officer of the court, the voice of the victims, an advocate for justice, was herself breaking the very law she had sworn to uphold.

Maybe this little violation was just her testing the water before diving into the icy lake of perjury that lay ahead.

That is, if she went ahead with it.

Which is what she'd spent over an hour, freezing her ass off on the roof of One Police Plaza trying to decide on. Whilst she was still no closer to her major decision, she had come to the less dramatic conclusion that perhaps this was an argument she could have with herself in the warm confines of her office.

Just as she was about to remove herself from her gargoyle like station, she heard the roof door open with an aching creak. Perhaps one of the Detectives of the unit had decided that their Attorney had been playing in high places without safety rails for a worrying amount of time, and thought it prudent to ensure their resident Legal Counsel hadn't attempted to break the airspeed record for lawyers in the Tri-state area in the space between the ledge and the pavement below. Or maybe it was a beat cop, who had, in the mere moments which had passed since her littering violation, managed to find her erroneously discarded cigarette leftovers, finger print it, matched it to her Bar Association records and had now arrived to place her under arrest.

She halfway hoped it was the latter, it would make her life infinitely simpler.

The door clicked shut and the sharp clack of footsteps on concrete roof gained volume as the new arrival walked to her side. Casey didn't bother to turn around, keeping her jade eyes half-lidded and directed aimlessly at the cityscape.

"Quite a view," A familiar, raspy voice said cheerily as the man parked himself next to her on the ledge, dangling his legs over the edge, mirroring her own stance. He looked somewhat comical, early fifties, with close cropped black hair greying at the temples, suited and booted with a trench coat to break the wind, tapping his heels together like a kid.

"Something tells me you didn't come all this way to talk scenery," she muttered reaching into her jacket and withdrawing a green and white twenty pack of Marlboro Menthols, thumbing the box open to find she was down to three. It had been a long day.

Remembering her manners, Casey offered one to the man, who wrinkled his nose in opaque disapproval.

Casey rolled her eyes, lighting up her own with a practiced grace, then returning her silver monogrammed lighter to her pocket, "I picked up the habit from you, you can't exactly disapprove."

The man laughed a little at her irked response, "I don't, but menthols Casey? God, those things should be illegal."

"Speaking of things which aren't legal…" Casey began, only for the man to interject.

"Fine, lets get to business," his voice took on a cold tone, and his cadence lost its playful bounce, "you know what your duties are, I don't expect you to agree with it, you just need to do it."

Casey sighed, expulsing a lungful of potentially harmful smoke. She was probably exposing him to second-hand smoke, and it gave her a strange sense of glee. He, after all, was no stranger to endangering her life.

"I am an officer of the court…" Casey began again, only for the man to cut in a second time.

"But first and foremost, you are a Novak. That will _always_ come first," He said, steely, grip tensing next to him on the ledge.

Casey licked her lips, bracing herself to ask the next question sticking to the back of her throat, "and if I don't?"

He shrugged, giving a slightly saddened pout, "I came as a courtesy, next time it will be Johnny. Of course, _I_ like you, but Johnny…"

"He likes knives, power tools, and the suffering of others, yeah, I get it." Casey barked out curtly, "warning received, loud and clear."

He smiled. No smirked. It was definitely a smirk; self-assured, smug and didn't quite reach his eyes, "good. Now do what you have to do, and then forget about it."

Still staring listlessly, Casey felt the presence depart from her side, footfalls sounding off as her visitor departed.

"Always a pleasure Dad," Casey called after him, making no attempt to hide the ire in her tone.

"Any time baby girl," He called back just before the door swung shut behind him with a hefty clunk.


	2. Trust

**A/N I hath finally completed this chapter! It's kinda a lot of back story, but it's needed unfortunately. It shall get more pace soon, I promise!**

**Thanks for the reviews, always muuuuch appreciated, and now I am going to sleep as it's silly o'clock in the morning**

**The above excuse is also valid for any typing errors!**

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**Chapter two: Trust**

Working out a prosecution strategy normally involved a detailed analysis of the evidence, consideration of emotional tugs to put to the jury, and plenty of trawling through law books and precedent setting cases to ensure she didn't get sideswiped by any tricky loopholes.

Sat in her apartment, cross-legged on the sofa, her decision on a strategy this time was a lot less…methodical.

Casey flicked her thumb once more, sending the quarter flipping into the air, glittering intermittently in the dull orange lamp light.

She caught the coin in her right hand, clapping it down on the back of her left. She took a steady deep breath before peeking beneath. Tails.

She hadn't even bothered to assign an outcome to a coin side, such was the level of her indecision.

Resigned to another night of sleep sans rest, Casey yawned heavily and got to her feet, destination bedroom.

Before she could reach said destination, a knock rattled her door, the volume of which told her the visitor was likely co-worker; cops had a way of banging on a door like they wanted it to come down, whether it was a social visit or otherwise. Perhaps it was a habit learned on the day job which was hard to drop.

Security chain in place, Casey opened the door cautiously at first before recognizing her visitor and unchaining to let him in.

"Detective," she greeted curtly. It was past ten in the evening, beyond the time for normal sociable guests, but perhaps a total lack of the concept of time was another cop trait which didn't shake easily.

"Novak," Fin greeted with equal ice. He stepped into her apartment without invite and waited for her to shut the door. Casey gave a long, deliberate sigh for effect, but knew this would do little to dissuade her unwelcome visitor.

"What do you want?" Casey snapped out, wincing slightly at her own tone. It had been a rough day, and whilst her conflicting thoughts had been unwelcome company for the evening, that didn't mean she was open to them being replaced by an equally unwanted companion.

"Hey, a hello would be nice," Fin muttered, making his way to her sofa and setting himself down, on the edge. The Detective had an odd way of sitting, on the edge of the seat, eyes flitting about, like he was always ready to spring up into action at a seconds notice.

Casey rolled her eyes and parked herself in the arm chair furthest from her colleagues position. She had wondered when he was going to show up.

"Fin, we both know this isn't a social visit, so just ask me already," Casey said. The man looked at her, his eyes narrowing as he appeared to think very hard. Tutola was never one to mince his words, so Casey wondered why he was taking so long to voice his somewhat obvious question.

"So how you gonna play this?"

Casey shrugged, "I'm going to do my job."

"We both know it ain't that simple," Fin said pointedly, "Jak been round yet to throw his two cents in?"

Casey considered lying about her fathers visit and 'reminder', but the quizzing look on Fin's face and his specific question led her to believe he already knew; and just wanted to know if Casey would lie about it.

"Dad dropped by the station yesterday, you can guess where he stands on the subject."

"I know where he stands, his little protégé is in trouble and he wants his girl on the inside to 'fix' things," Fin said.

Her fathers 'little protégé' was Mark Kovacevic. The son of Mario Kovacevic, one of her fathers oldest friends and what could loosely be described as business partners. In light of Casey's decision to sorely disappoint her Dad and take a stand on the opposite side of the Law to he, Mark had become something of a replacement. A successor. Her Dad had waxed lyrical about Mark; told her he was the sort of man who saw what he wanted and took it, no matter what anyone else thought. He was a man of strong character.

Unfortunately, what Mark had wanted lately was sex, and he had indeed taken that, no matter what a young girl named Deborah Longman had thought or wanted.

Hence Casey's present predicament.

"He came around to warn me of the 'consequences' of winning the case," Casey said flatly, "my guess is you're hear to let me know what'll happen to me if I don't."

Fin's brow furrowed with a deep frown, "don't get cute with me Novak, you know I ain't here to shake you down."

Casey got to her feet and paced across to the window, if only to avoid Fin's stern gaze. The pressure from her father and all that entailed was already bearing down on her from one side and it seemed her colleague wanted to make that into a vice, crushing at her from both angles.

Fuck, she didn't need this.

She stared blankly at the city outside, eyes losing focus and becoming a field of indistinct blurred orange and yellow fireworks as Fin continued his discourse. Casey was just beginning to relax into her reverie when she felt hands grip her shoulders, not hard, just enough to bring her back.

"Hey, you listening to me?" Fin asked, turning her about and snapping her from her peaceful retreat from reality.

Casey swatted his hands away crankily, "I don't need reminding who my family are Fin, or what they're capable of. Least of all from you."

Fin was clearly frustrated, "Casey, I ain't here to remind you who they are, I'm here to remind you who _you_ are."

"You came to remind me 'who I am'? What, did I pass out and wake up in a Disney film?" Casey growled sarcastically.

"I gave you a shot," Fin said, "every vice cop in Brooklyn, hell, every vice cop in New York knows the name Novak. And if it had been anyone else who hauled you in that night, you wouldn't be sitting here in your cushy Upper West Side apartment wondering whether to save your own ass by letting a scum bag walk free, you'd be either turning tricks for one of your daddies little pals, or at the bottom of the Hudson. Something told me you weren't like your Dad, you weren't one of the bad guys. And you proved me right. I'm sure there was consequences, just like there will be now. But if you give in, when's it going to stop, huh? Do you really wanna go down that road?"

Casey slumped down onto her sofa, letting his words sink in, and remembering the night in question:

_She told herself to keep walking, though the package in her rucksack seemed to throb with an a heat, an energy of its own._

_Casey had just turned sixteen and her Dad figured she was ready for an 'assignment'._

_Walking hurriedly along the sidewalk, she tucked her chin into her chest, shrinking into herself. It felt like everyone was watching, like everyone knew what she was carrying. _

_Her Dad had asked her to make this delivery because she would seem inconspicuous. After all, most cops didn't expect crime bosses to entrust delivery of several thousand dollars worth of heroin to a school kid._

_She hadn't wanted to do it, but she knew there'd be hell to pay if she refused, so she'd just silently nodded, scribbled down the address and grabbed her coat._

_Halfway to the apartment address she'd scrawled down earlier, Casey became aware she was being followed. By a cop._

_A blue and white squad car had slowed, and was definitely rolling along with a view to keeping her in its sights._

_Shit._

_Casey stole a quick glance backwards then ducked swiftly into an ally, taking cover behind a convenient dumpster, waiting for the coast to clear. She was probably just being paranoid, it's not like she had 'Hello! I'm delivering drugs!' tattooed on her forehead._

_She was still peeping out from behind the dumpster, when a flashlight near blinded her, and a voice called out._

"_Hey, police Ma'am, what are you doing back there?"_

_Casey cautiously stood up, trying to appear nonchalant. Fuck, why had she ducked? If she'd carried on walking, she likely wouldn't have raised suspicion._

"_Um, I thought I was being followed?" Casey said, trying to control her fidgeting, the cop already looked wary._

"_You know these streets ain't safe at this hour for a girl on her own," the Cop said, creasing his brow, "where you headed?"_

"_Um, just to a friends house, to, uh, study," Casey said, he words tumbling out messily and unsure. Her father had told her a cover story, but it had totally departed from her mind under the pressure._

"_At eleven PM on a Friday night?" The Cop queried. Casey just nodded mutely. He frowned. If he didn't think she was up to something before, he certainly did now._

"_How old are you?" He asked, raised an eyebrow as he gave her an appraising glare._

"_Um, 18, Can I go now?" Casey asked quickly, praying it could be that easy._

"_Just a minute," the Cop said, his brow now furrowed, curiosity quite obviously piqued, "you wanna step out over here by my car?"_

"_Okay," Casey said weakly. _

"_What's your name ma'am?" the Cop asked, taking his notepad out._

"_Casey…" Casey knew her father was notorious amongst law enforcement, and her name was unusual, so she paused before saying, "…Smith."_

"_Okay," the Cop said, jotting it down, "and you got some ID? Cause you don't look eighteen to me, and we get a lot of runaway kids around here..."_

_Casey gulped audibly. He thought she was a runaway. And now she had lied about her age, and her name. How could she have been so damn stupid? This would not end well._

_Slowly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her drivers permit. Her arm barely felt like it had the strength to hand it to the officer._

_He took it dutifully, his eyebrows jumping up as he read the details._

"_Well, well, well," the Cop said, "says here you're 16 years old, and your surname is Novak. And I'm guessing since you were so hesitant to tell me your real name, you have some relation to Jakob Novak."_

"_He's my father," Casey muttered, suddenly fascinated by the pavement._

"_I see. Nice guy, we see a lot of him and his friends down the precinct," the Cop said with a significant layer of sarcasm, "what's in the rucksack?"_

"_Uh, nothing, just books and stuff," Casey said, suddenly feeling five years old._

"_Mind if I take a look?"_

_Casey knew she was screwed if he looked in the rucksack, but for some reason, she gave it up without protest. She hadn't wanted to deliver drugs for her father, hell, she didn't want anything to do with his shady dealings. She had seen what these drugs had done to her mother… that was enough for her. No profit or gain was worth facilitating that desolation of another human being. _

_In a lot of ways, Casey had halfway hoped someone would stop her from making the delivery. Her plan for after someone stopped her was a little sketchy, to the point of non-existence._

_The Cop opened the bag and let out a sharp whistle._

"_You know what's in here?" he asked. Casey nodded by way of reply, "so I guess you know how much trouble you're in?"_

_Casey took a deep breath. This was her last chance, if she got slapped with a felony, there was no way she was going to law school (the chances were slim as it was, given her fathers pastime, and the fact that he most definitely would not pay for it),_

"_Look, I didn't want to do it, I had no choice. But if you think I'm going to stand up in court and say that, well, you must be as dumb as my Dad always says cops are. Even if you put my Dad away, I'll wind up in some fucking foster home, followed quickly by the bottom of the river."_

_The Cop looked quizzical for a moment, then thoughtful._

"_Well, are you going to take me in?" Casey asked after he had been silent for some time. She wanted to get this over with._

_To her surprise, he shook his head, "no. I'm not. Go."_

"_Go?" Casey sputtered, incredulous. _

"_Yeah, as in get lost," the Cop said, "I'll take this in, say some kid dropped it and took off when I questioned him. Think of this as a lifeline kiddo, your Dad is scum, and I think you know that too. Now you've got the chance to be something different. I can see your heart ain't in this. Now scram, and if I ever catch you again, I'll throw the book at you."_

_Casey blinked slowly, hardly believing her luck, and quickly dashed off before he could change his mind. _

"I never quite understood why you let me go," Casey said. Fin shrugged, taking a seat opposite her again on the armchair.

"You seemed like a good kid who had been forced into something, and I know what it's like to grow up with everyone thinking you're gonna turn out bad, just expecting it because of where you come from. I wanted to give you a chance. And from the looks of it, I'm a damn good judge of character."

Casey smirked, "Prosecutor, can't get more right side of the law than that."

Fin came as close as he ever did to a smile too, "sometimes I wonder if you did that just to piss him off."

"My Dad's not the kind of guy you want to piss off," Casey said, the memory of the rest of that night providing a perfect reminder of that fact.

_Casey had gone straight home, and had tearfully explained to her father what had happened, Omitting the part where she had handed over her drivers license. In the version of the story she had concocted on her way home, she had given the false name, but the cop told her to scram after he saw the stash because he wanted didn't want to report it, probably wanted to keep it for himself. _

_That tied things off neatly, sure she'd lost the delivery, but at least the cops weren't going to tie it to the Novak's._

_Her Dad had sat silent throughout the story, and now rose to his feet, walking past her into the kitchen muttering a single syllable, "come."_

_Shakily, Casey followed her father into the kitchen._

"_Here," He said, pointed at the floor tile directly in front of him. Casey's feet felt like lead as she walked up to him. As soon as she was within range, she felt the back of his hand collide sharply with her cheek. He grabbed her collar with his free hand to stop her stumbling over, unleashing a few heavy, winding punches to her stomach before lifting her up with ease, and slamming onto her back on the kitchen table. She stared up at the ceiling lights, dazed with pain, hoping she'd pass out soon when she heard a distinct sound. _

_A gun being cocked._

_Still holding her in place on the table, her Dad brought the repeater up to her chin, sneering menacingly. She could see a silencer was attached, and that filled her with more fear._

_It meant he intended to use it, and he didn't want the neighbours to hear the shot._

"_Now Casey, when one of my guys lets me down, the way you have today, I kill him. Not with a straight shot to the head, maybe I'd put a few bullets in a few choice, painful places, let him suffer, let him maybe think I wasn't going to kill him after all. And then, maybe I'd take my knife out…little incision here, little amputation there until he begged me to finish him. Which of course I would. And then I'd pick a few guys who I think aren't up to scratch, have them bury him so they can see what'll happen to them if they don't get their act together."_

_Casey squirmed in his grip, normally, she just waited his tantrums out, trying to escape generally only pissed him off more, but she was genuinely terrified._

"_Please Dad, I'm really sorry, I got scared, I didn't know what…"_

"_Hey, hey, Case," he said soothingly lowering the weapon from her face, "you're my baby girl, I'm not going to do that to you. I should, but I won't. Shhhh."_

_She found it hard to be comforted when he still had a gun in his hand, and a vice grip on her jacket collar._

"_I'm not going to kill you sweetheart, I'm just going to teach you an important lesson your grandfather taught me when I was your age," he said. He moved his hand from her collar to cover her mouth, and suddenly, he brought the gun up again, pressing the silenced muzzle firmly against her shoulder and squeezing the trigger._

_There was a muted popping sound, and a sharp metallic ping as the spent bullet casing landed on the floor. _

_Casey had to look down to realize he had genuinely shot her. A small hole had blossomed on her jacket, crimson slowly spreading outward. It didn't hurt as much as she thought it should. It just felt cold, freezing cold, and her thoughts began to cloud, her muscles slackening._

_Half conscious, she felt her father scoop her up into his arms and set her down on his lap on the living room couch, pressing a towel to the wound._

"_Now, I know this hurts," he said softly, like when he used to stick a band-aid on after she'd grazed herself playing in the yard, "but you need to remember this: there is no one you need to be more scared of than me, you got that?"_

_Casey nodded groggily, "uh-huh."_

"_I'm going to get a doctor I know to stitch this up for you, and once this had healed, you're going to have a permanent reminder. I love you, and I didn't like having to do this to you, but it's for your own good. Remember that." _

_Casey couldn't even nod this time as she finally succumbed to the darkness._


	3. IOU

**I finally managed to write an update! I shall attempt to write more! This fic is turning out alot longer than I thought it would so bear with me!**

**Chapter Three: IOU  
**

Casey thumped the horn again, eliciting and angry string of curses from an occupant of the adjacent house. It wasn't unwarranted, after all, it wasn't unusual for inhabitants of this neighbourhood to still be in bed at 11am. Employment was considered somewhat unusual, as was owned a vehicle that wasn't a beat-up pickup.

Hence Casey's reluctance to get out of her car and knock on the damn door. She was just about to awaken the remainder of the rundown cul-de-sac when the front door on the house she was waiting at opened, and a young girl trudged down the garden path, backpack slung wearily over one shoulder. She opened the passenger side, climbing in and immediately slumping low.

"Hey," she muttered, the single syllable taking unbearable effort.

"You're late Marissa," Casey scolded, "I told you to be ready for eleven, you have no idea what I had to go through with my boss to convince him to let me have this morning off."

Marissa shrugged, "blow job?"

"Marissa!" Casey said, frowning as she started the car, they were running late already, "you're fifteen, you're too young to be talking like that."

Marissa rolled her eyes, "oh please, as if you weren't _doing_ things like that at my age, let alone talking about them!"

Casey smirked, "actually, I think we both know _that _is something I wouldn't have been doing, at any age, as for anything else…that's a whole other story…"

Marissa clamped her hands over her ears, "a story which would cause me irrevocable emotional damage if I ever heard it, thank you!"

"Hey, you started it," Casey said smugly, enjoying getting the upper hand for once.

An hour or so later, Casey was walking out of the school, a folder tucked under one arm. She hopped into the drivers seat of her car, which was already occupied by Marissa. She let out a slow deliberate sigh.

Marissa looked worried, "well? What did they say?"

"You're a very bright student, you never start any trouble, but your absence and tardiness is causing the Principal some concern…and me," Casey said.

"You're not gonna give me a hard time about this are you?" Marissa asked.

"I understand your living situation isn't ideal, but you've got to take your education seriously, you really wanna live in that neighbourhood for the rest of your life?" Casey said.

"I don't, you know that, this wouldn't be a problem if you let me come live with you," Marissa said, words trailing off quickly. She'd broached this subject with Casey before, and she knew it was a sore point.

"I can't do that," Casey said, keeping her eyes on the steering wheel. She didn't need another guilt trip, "just…try to get to school, alright? Your grades are really good, I don't want you to waste that."

"Fine," Marissa muttered, sensing the subject was closed, she slouched low, crossing her arms over her chest.

Casey just rolled her eyes and started the car.

Teenagers.

"This is your stop Kiddo," Casey said, pulling up in the driveway of Marissa's house. The teenager remained in the car, chewing at her distractedly lower lip.

Casey had the same habit, and she knew what it meant. Something was up.

"What's up?" Casey asked brightly, hoping it was just normal teenage angst.

"Some of your Dad's 'friends' came round yesterday," Marissa said.

"Oh yeah?" Casey said, trying to sound casual, even as her heartbeat ratcheted up by fifty beats a minute.

"They said you were involved in some case with a family friend, they said you were going to help them out,"

Casey swallowed hard, goosebumps prickling under her blouse, "they say anything else?"

"Nope," Marissa said, "Mom seemed real worried though…"

"She's our Mom, it's her job to worry about us," Casey said, trying to play it off lightly, "just like it's my job as a big sister to worry about you."

Marissa stared at her for a moment, before grabbing her rucksack from the footwell, aware she wasn't getting any more information out of Casey, "whatever. Hey, you wanna go catch a movie or something? These school holidays are killing me."

"No can do, got to get back to the office," Casey said, secretly glad she didn't need to spend more time with her little sister. She didn't want Marissa probing any further into the business with her father and his 'associates'.

"How about after?"

"I've got a…uh…date," Casey said, awkwardly.

"Okay, details, now." Marissa said, immediately rapt.

"It's just dinner, with someone from my office…it's a first date," Casey said.

"Is it with that lawyer you were talking about before, the one you tried to hook up with when you were on work experience?"

Casey frowned, "I did not try to 'hook up' with Alex, and yes, it is her."

"Oh my god, I'm so taking credit for this if it goes well, I told you to find her and ask her out, because, you know, it'd be like a movie, you met all that time ago, and then…"

"Actually, she asked me out," Casey said.

**_A week earlier_**

Casey was stood at the bar of the police squads usual haunt. It was a Friday and had been a long time getting there. She had decided to toast the arrival of the weekend with a single malt whiskey on the rocks. The barman had just placed the tumbler containing the glorious golden liquid down in front of her, when she heard a familiar voice from behind her, next to her,

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."

Casey turned around, "Alex Cabot?"

"Casey Novak," Alex greeted in kind.

"Wow, I haven't seen you in…well, a long time, what are you doing here?" Casey said, stammering awkwardly with surprise. She had replaced Alex Cabot as the SVU prosecutor a year a go, but owing to the fact that she had replaced Alex when she'd been swept away by the feds into the witness protection program, they hadn't crossed paths again until now.

"The leader of a certain drugs cartel came to a rather grizzly end, meaning the FBI decided to call time on the coddling and let me get back to my life," Alex said.

"Oh…" Casey said, "congratulations, I'm glad."

Alex smiled, "hey, don't look so worried. The DA's office is giving me a job, but not yours. I'll be working Vice, their ADA just put his notice in."

"Oh, good," Casey said, trying not to let her relief show. She had grown somewhat attached to her job, and was glad she wasn't about to be shunted elsewhere.

"Hey, would you like a drink?" Alex said, "it must be what, ten years since we last met?"

Casey nodded, "something like that."

Alex ordered a bottle of something French and nodded toward an empty booth in the corner. Casey followed.

**_Ten years ago_**

This was about to get interesting.

Casey had walked into the law firms office preparing to be bored within an inch of her life. Her School had recently started a 'work experience' program. Which meant they got to farm their students out to a bunch of companies who were more interested in the subsidies it scored them than actually teaching kids anything.

But then her mentor had walked in.

Early twenties, five nine or thereabouts, most of which was gloriously visible (thanks to a slightly risqué grey pencil skirt), perfectly shaped legs, long blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes peering out behind thick framed glasses which gave her a certain 'school teacher' look. Casey was still busy gawping when the woman stuck her hand out by way of welcome,

"Alexandra Cabot, trainee lawyer, general dogsbody and tea caddy."

Casey bolted to her feet, accidentally offering her left in a fumble, then quickly switching to the right hand. She felt her cheeks flush a little. A twitch at the corner or her new mentors mouth signaled amusement. Casey hoped she was laughing with, not at her inside.

"Casey Novak, future lawyer. Probably. Hopefully."

Cabot's brow creased, "Novak?"

Casey swallowed hard. Her family name often evoked that reaction. She shrugged.

"Alright, time to introduce you to my arch nemesis…the photocopier."

_**Five days later**_

The work placement was nearly at an end, and as Casey had expected, the work had been monotonous. She'd not learned much about law, but she was now well acquainted with filing, coffee machine operation and Xeroxing.

There had been one upside though.

Alex Cabot.

Alex was in college, and at 21 was only four years Casey's senior. They'd hung out, Alex had filled her in on all the awkward office politics, they'd snickered quietly at the odd habits of one of the firm's senior partners (including bi-hourly bathroom breaks, exactly on the hour, and loudly practicing his closing statements in the middle of reception) and Casey, much to her own consternation, had found herself somewhat smitten.

Internally, she chided herself. She hated how immature teenagers behaved, and it irked her even more when she herself gave in to such silliness.

Nevertheless, she'd not been able to stop herself daydreaming idly about the woman when she was home…staring blatantly when Alex bent over to pick up a stray document.

Luckily, it seemed Alex had not noticed that the number of documents that found their way to the floor was directly proportional to the length of the skirt she had worn that day.

If Alex had noticed Casey's attentions, she hadn't said anything. And now it was the end of the last day and Casey sat in the firms spacious reception area, waiting to be discharged.

She had formulated a plan.

She was going to ask Alex out.

Sure it was a long shot, Casey hadn't even determined whether Alex batted for her team yet, and even then, Alex was gorgeous, a college girl, and thus categorically out of her league.

But, Casey figured, this was the last time she would see Alex anyway. If she turned her down, no big deal. Casey would slink off and no one would ever need know that she'd made a complete fool of herself.

If she said yes. Well. Casey hadn't quite got that far in her planning. All she knew is she definitely wanted Alex - she would figure out what to do with her later. She was sure the hormonal teenage section of her brain could take care of that at any rate.

"Casey!"

Alex's voice snapped her from her thoughts. She walked over to Casey. Casey felt a sudden queasiness, but pushed it to the back of her mind. She had a plan, and goddamnit she was going to follow through with it. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, taking a deep breath and attempting to muster up the courage she'd felt moments before Alex had walked into the room which seemed to have deserted her.

"Your time's up, you're free to go," Alex said, "back to the enduring excitement of High School."

Casey forced her best smile, _play it cool Novak_,

"Thanks for having me, it's been a great experience,"

Casey flinched at her words. France probably would be jealous at the amount of cheese in the sentiment. Alex didn't seem to notice. She grabbed her coat from the rack, shrugging it on.

"Don't mention it, it's been great having someone else to send for latte's," Alex said, a faint smirk signaling she was joking, "hey, do you want a ride back home?"

It was now or never.

"Actually, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get a drink. With me," Casey said, trying her best to sound nonchalant.

Alex paused, "A drink?"

Casey nodded, confidence bolstered by the lack of instant refusal. That had to be a good sign, "sure, it's Friday evening, you said you didn't have any plans, I haven't got any plans either and…"

Alex cut in, "you're not legal."

Casey frowned, "I am, I'm seventeen."

Alex looked her up and down in an appraising manner, "I meant to drink."

Casey flushed a little, but quickly rallied, "I meant we could go for a drink of coffee."

"Coffee?" Alex said, looking away thoughtfully. Casey wondered when this had seemed like a good idea. It was probably when Alex had worn that tight white blouse with just a few too many buttons undone…

"Alright, lets go," Alex said, after what seemed like an aeon.

"Really?" Casey said, suddenly excited again.

"Yes, really."

They had visited a coffee place not too far from the law firm. It was a small, homely place, with worn sofa's and a bookshelf filled with tattered paperbacks, much better than the faceless chain shops which littered the city high streets. A coffee had turned into a few and several hours, until Alex had looked at her watch, clucked her tongue and decided she'd better get Casey home. Not that Casey wanted to go.

Alex pulled up outside Casey's Dad's house, killing the engine.

"There you have it, door to door service," Alex said with a smile.

"Thank you," Casey said, "I've had a really good time." She paused, unsure what her next move should be.

"Me too," Alex said. Casey steeled herself. She'd been so brave up to now, she might as well continue. Take her chances.

She turned, meeting Alex's sapphire blue eyes, "so, where I come from a goodnight kiss is customary at this stage of a date…"

Alex sighed, "date?"

Casey squirmed, "I mean, it just felt like, I. Uh. I didn't mean." Her words fell away. The ground rarely listened when she silently preyed for it to swallow her up. She glared at the dashboard. Then she felt a hand on her cheek.

"Casey, you are really sweet," she heard Alex say, "but you're in high school. I'll make you a deal, you can get an IOU on that kiss, and if you're ever in New York and five years older, look me up. Okay?"

Casey nodded, "I'll keep you to that."

Alex squeezed her shoulder and gave a little laugh, "I hope you do Novak."

And with that, Casey bid her goodbye and jogged back up her garden path, hoping her Dad wouldn't kick her ass for breaking curfew. It would have been worth it though.

_**Ten years later**_

Alex had ordered another bottle, and a couple of hours had passed. Ten years was a long time to catch up on. Casey felt like a teenager again sitting next to Alex, who had hardly changed at all. Still a knockout. Still good company. Still made butterflies buzz up a storm in her stomach.

After a pause in conversation, Alex had gazed in to the distance, removed her glasses, then shuffled a little closer, fixing Casey with an intense stare,

"So, I distinctly remember issuing you with an IOU some time ago…"

"Yeah, I remember," Casey tightly. She didn't want to show her cards. All those years back she'd made the first move. It was Alex's turn.

"You wanna collect on that?" Alex asked, leaning in, her voice taking on a lower, seductive quality.

Casey smiled, then leaned in, closing the space between them and meeting Alex's lips gently with hers. The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was worth the wait.

Before she could gather her thoughts, she felt Alex's hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in for a decidedly more passionate kiss.

When they finally came up for air, Casey remarked,

"What was that for?"

Alex grinned, "interest. I said five years, its been ten."

"Five years overdue," Casey wove her fingers together thoughtfully, "at today's rates, that's _a lot_ of interest…"

Alex smiled, giving Casey one last kiss, "I have to go," she slid a business card across the table, "here's my number. Call me. Let's get another coffee…"


	4. Choices

**Chapter 4  
**

**Choices**

A compromise.

In the present context, the word tasted bitter on Casey's tongue, but what choice did she have?

She had been deliberately cagey with her squad, though Tutuola had been a special kind of pain in her ass. They didn't need to know she planned plead Mark out. Casey was doing a good enough job berating herself over it, she didn't need the squad kicking her ass too.

She sat fidgeting in the stations interview room, waiting for her meeting, thumbing at a binder. Kovacevic sounded glib on the phone as he'd waived his right to counsel.

As far as he knew, it was all sewn up. Casey was firmly in pocket and he was about to get off. The door clicked open and a uniformed officer escorted Mark in. Her stomach turned as he sat opposite her, clothed in an unflattering iridescent orange jumpsuit. Not that better tailoring would have made him attractive. He was mid thirties, short, box shaped. Not fat, just square, with slicked back dark hair, an imposing jaw and pale blue eyes. A classic eastern European look. He should have been handsome, on paper, but there was something off, perhaps his deportment. The man seemed to ooze. Slimey. That was the word.

He waited until the officer secured his cuffs to the chair and departed before speaking,

"Casey, baby, how's it going?" He smirked, a self satisfied grin. Casey didn't have a doubt in her mind the fucker was guilty as sin. On top of that, her case was watertight. The vic had headed straight to the hospital after the incident, dear god the girl was a mess. No way Kovacevic's lawyer could play that off as a little bit of rough foreplay. Serious physical injury, perp with zero alibi, bang tight DNA evidence.

Game. Set. Match.

She could win this case with her eyes shut.

But this wasn't just any case.

"Casey Novak, Senior Assistant District Attorney," Casey bit out curtly, even though introductions were unnecessary, "I'm here to offer you a deal."

Kovacevic leaned back in his chair, "hit me."

"4 years, you could be paroled in 2, as it's your first offence…on record…" the words felt acidic as they slipped off her tongue. But this was the best worst option. Pleading him out meant the vic got justice, even if it was a diluted version thereof, and Casey didn't wind up a gun crime statistic.

"Nu-uh," he responded, "Jak said I walk. No jail time. Nothing."

Casey rested her elbows on the table, clasping her hands in a prayer like gesture, "this is a good deal you fucking idiot, it's the best I can do, we've got a solid case. If this goes to court it'll take a jury all of five minutes to send you down for twice that. Take it."

The man rolled his eyes, "Casey, you can do better than that."

Casey glared, "I'm walking a fine line as it is, you've got to do time. Anything less than that, and the DA will overrule me. It's out of my hands."

Mark shrugged, "so take it to court, throw the case. I've got a great lawyer, and he's in on it. You slip up, he'll be straight on it."

Casey closed her eyes, willing herself out of the room unsuccessfully, "and what about the Victim? What about her family?"

"That whore had it coming," Mark muttered, "and anyway, that's not your concern. How is she?"

"Distraught, hurt, terrified…"

Mark interrupted, "I don't mean that bitch. I mean Marissa."

Casey's eyes darkened, "fuck off."

"Hey, I've got a right to be concerned…"

Casey stood up, snatching her briefcase and rapping hard on the door to summon the guard, "you've never been concerned about anything other than saving your own hide. I'll see you in court."

"I trust you'll make the right choice," Mark said with a smirk, "or when I get out, maybe I'll go for three generations…You think anyone's done that before? Must be a world record or…"

Casey snapped, storming back to the table. It took every ounce of her self control not to slap Mark in the face. She slammed her palms down on the desk instead, growling, "you sick bastard, if you so much as think about any member of my family again, I will gut you, you hear me?"

Mark simply laughed, "have I told you I love a fiery woman? It's much more fun when they struggle..."

Casey turned sharply on her heel, battering angrily on the door, "guard!" she barked out, eager to leave before she did something she'd regret.

* * *

"Something on your mind?" Came Alex's voice, soft, worn with sleep. Casey stood at the floor length glass pane that formed Alex's apartment bedroom window, staring listlessly as the city below, oranges and yellows blurring into a muddy haze in the fog thickened night. She glanced back at the woman in bed. Even with bed hair, sans make-up, clothed in just a duvet tucked up to her chest, she was beautiful. It had been a few short weeks, but things had moved quickly between them. Evenings out turned to evenings in, sharing each others beds alternately nearly every night. Alex talked, Casey listened. Using her law school learnt skill to deflect any questions about herself, her life.

Alex was wonderful. She knew exactly what to say to make Casey smile when she was feeling down. She knew exactly what to do to make Casey scream in bed.

But really, she didn't know anything about Casey at all.

This was how it had to be.

"Just restless," Casey said, drawing away from the window, from distraction, and perching on the edge of the right side of the bed. What had become her side of the bed.

She felt Alex draw near, felt warm breath against her neck. Alex's fingers traced her shoulder.

"I meant to ask you…" Alex's words fell away, and Casey took the chance to counter.

"I know, tattoos aren't really my thing, I was a little reckless in law school," Casey reeled off quickly, hoping to close the matter.

"_Quae nocent, saepe docent,_" Alex read aloud the inscription inked, night black in a delicate italicised font across Casey's shoulder blade, "what hurts, often instructs, that about right?"

Fuck.

Lawyers know Latin. Well, not all, but Alex of course did. Previously, Casey had told other paramours that it meant 'my dog ate it', though anyone with a rudimentary understanding of Latin knew that humorous phrase roughly translated as '_canis meus id comedit'._

Casey shrugged, "Something like that, I didn't know at the time."

Alex's hand remained on her shoulder, brushing over a small, circular scar, "are you sure it's nothing to do with when you got shot?"

Casey snuggled down under the duvet next to Alex, she'd had enough time to analyse, "shot? No, I've had that scar since I was a kid, can't remember where…"

Alex frowned, her neat brows knitting in puzzlement, she offered up her own shoulder, punctuated by a small raised circle, lighter than the rest and no larger than a dime, "you forget Case, I was shot."

Casey bristled, "so you take a bullet and suddenly you're a forensics expert?"

Suitable chastised, Alex thumped her head back down into the pillow, emitting a deliberate sigh, "why do you do that?"

"What?" Casey snapped back, eyes locked to the ceiling.

Alex huffed again, "you _know_ what."

"I obviously don't, or I wouldn't be asking." Casey replied, slightly irked.

"Fine, doesn't matter," Alex growled in a tone which suggested it was anything but, and promptly hopped out of bed and exited the room.

Casey flopped an arm over her eyes. When a woman says she, or something, is 'fine' it almost invariably means the precise opposite. She pondered how she'd got into this, and how she was going to get out of it.

Casey's relationships (if you could call them that) prior to Alex had been brief, shallow, and plentiful.

That was how it had to be.

Mostly, she opted for good looking girls, with little going on upstairs. They fulfilled her need for comfort and sex, and as soon as it became too deep, she bolted.

It had earned her something of a reputation. Not that she gave a fuck.

Casey had always been careful to stick with women with whom she would not, and could not fall for. She tried to make sure she didn't hurt anyone, but inevitably some girls weren't reading from the same hymn sheet and she'd left a few hearts broken in her wake. Such is love. Such is life.

And all's fair, so they say.

Alex was different.

Alex was interesting, engaging, and Casey loved spending time with her, even outside of the bedroom, which was a new experience.

She was someone Casey could see a future with.

But the past still loomed large, casting an immutable shadow over all that might be.

She knew she should walk away now.

Instead she walked into the kitchen, gingerly padding up behind Alex, who had occupied herself pretending to wash dishes, but in fact was just pawing light at the soapy water filled sink.

Casey slid her arms around her Alex's waist, nuzzling against her neck by way of silent apology.

A few painful seconds passed before Casey felt her girlfriend lean back into her embrace.

Apology accepted.

For now.

Casey knew Alex would eventually tire of her evasion on all matters personal and broach the subject again.

Casey was content to cross that bridge when she was inevitably tossed off it. She'd sacrificed a lot so far in her life, and would continue to do so. For now, she'd indulge herself.

Her hands fell from Alex's waist, and she gently turned her around. Alex still looked a little upset, but the anger was gone. She touched Casey's cheek, touching their foreheads together.

"I want this to work," Alex whispered.

Casey closed her eyes, "me too, it's just hard to talk about certain things."

"Certain things?"

"Nothing that affects me and you, it's just the past, I like to leave it there."

Alex pressed her lips to Casey's in a long, gentle kiss, "you know you can trust me, don't you?"

"Of course," Casey bit out. It wasn't Alex she couldn't trust. It was everyone fucking else in her fucked up life.

"Okay," Alex said, breaking their embrace, and slipping a slender hand into Casey's own, leading her back to the bedroom, "no pressure. But when you want to talk, I won't judge you."

Casey followed. God she wanted to talk, her secrets felt like a lead weight settled on her chest. But she couldn't. The less Alex knew, the safer Alex was. Casey was good at that. Keeping people safe. Trouble is, that ability didn't seem to extend to herself.

Instead she smiled dumbly and gratefully accepted the comforting pillow of Alex's chest, and snuggled tight. She heard a contented sigh emit from Alex's lungs, and tuned her thoughts out to the steady thrum of her lovers heartbeat.

She wished she never had to leave.

* * *

Her mouth was moving, but her mind was on autopilot.

It needed to be this way.

Casey paced the space between the jury and the judge, spewing out fanciful rhetoric, drawing out her closing statement, as though a few more minutes would make a difference.

It wouldn't.

She'd made her choice.

Not consciously, she'd simply avoided the question in her own mind.

Kovacevic had rebuffed her deal, meaning the only way to acquiesce to her fathers demands would be to throw the case. She'd mulled the matter over, and there was a way. During the investigation, the Defence Lawyers had managed to get a search of Kovacevic's property thrown out (it was a simple clerical error, the judge had been swamped so his secretary had printed and dated the warrant - he'd actually signed it the following day, which technically made it invalid) which had yielded the bloodied clothes the perp had been wearing.

Casey hadn't argued, they had him dead to rights without it.

However, if she brought it up early, before revealing the prosecutions most damning evidence, the defence would invariably call a material evidence objection, anything arising from that searching being 'fruit of the poisonous tree'.

As Mark had no doubt instructed his counsel to look for such a slip-up, they would call for a mistrial - as the evidence could unfairly prejudice the jury.

Judge Mahon was presiding, and his dislike of young, in his eyes, upstart prosecutors was well known. Plus he rarely bothered reading through court materials properly.

The Defence would have no trouble convincing him that the Prosecution had attempted to gain advantage through the mistrial.- and as such, the charges would be dismissed. Never to be tried again, as per the sometimes infuriating double jeopardy rule.

The bastard would walk, the DA would haul her over the coals, and then life would go on.

But she hadn't done it.

She'd danced with the idea, putting forward a few risqué lines of questioning which lead to swift, and immediately sustained objections, but nothing over the line. Nothing which could galvanize calls for a mistrial or improper conduct.

It was her half-assed, half-baked plan.

If her father really intended to carry out his threats, perhaps she could squirm out of it, pointing to the few bones she tossed the defence as evidence that she really did try to lose the case, and Kovacevic's lawyers were not competent to take advantage.

It had a kitten's chance in Crufts of working.

Her Father needed to retain damn good Lawyers to keep ahead in his line of work. They'd no doubt inform him the case, as Casey presented it, was unsinkable. And she couldn't argue she was a too bad a lawyer to figure out a loophole to throw the case - her unparalleled prosecution rate contested that.

Half hour.

That's how long it took the jury come to their conclusion.

The only conclusion they could come to.

Guilty.

Casey avoided any temptation to glance to her left as proceedings closed and a shellshocked Kovacevic was removed from the courtroom, headed for Riker's where he would await sentencing.

And now Casey would head home to await her own sentence.

* * *

Keen to delay the inevitable, Casey made a few stops on the way home, returning to her apartment via her office, a bar and the grocery store.

As soon as she stepped into her apartment, she knew her father would not be giving her a reprieve. She felt beneath her heels the crisp rustle of plastic sheeting, which covered the entirety of her open plan living room/kitchen.

Real hardwood floors were porous.

Even a meathead for hire like Rufus Cope, who presently occupied her sofa, knew that. He was engrossed in a baseball game - Casey was glad the overpriced sports channel subscription she'd taken out was going to some use. Alex never let her sit through a full game anymore. Not that she could complain about Alex's creative distraction methods.

Casey calmly set her groceries down on the kitchen counter.

"Hey Ruff," she said. He glanced back over his shoulder, Casey wondered how. The man barely had a neck, just a big shaved head sat atop broad, thick shoulders.

"Case," he grunted back in his low rumble. Single syllables were the limit of his intellectual capacity.

"Dad not coming then?" Casey asked, nonchalantly, unpacking her purchases and storing them away. Rufus wasn't looking. She opened the drawer beneath the sink, the item inside seemed to burn in her hands.

"Nope," Rufus confirmed.

"Making you do his dirty work?" Casey enquired.

"He trusts me," Rufus snorted, still facing away from her. The TV was on loud. He didn't hear her slow approach.

Casey tutted, "sure, I'll bet he sent Cal to make sure though."

Rufus grunted, "nuh-uh, I don't need backup to take care of one girl."

Casey sighed, "I guess my Dad doesn't know me as well as he thinks."

"How'd you figure that?" Rufus said, turning around to face the ADA. The colour drained from his puffy cheeks.

"He probably didn't think I'd kill you," Casey said, resting the tip of the silencer against Rufus' brow, which was quickly beginning to gleam with sweat.

His lip began to quiver, "you wouldn't…" he stammered.

Casey cocked an eyebrow, "you were going to kill me."

"I had no choice," Rufus said.

"Neither do I," Casey said, and squeezed the trigger.

The gentleness of the silencers pop seemed almost crude, in light of what followed


	5. Duplicity

**_A/N Apologies for the delay, this fic is once again turning out far longer and more complicated than I originally planned! Thanks for the reviews, this chapter is somewhat short but I seem to be getting into writing mood so should be updating properly until this is finished_  
**

**Chapter 5**

**Duplicity**

"He's a heavy fucker," Callum muttered, rubbing at his aching shoulder.

Casey nodded, "I wouldn't have called you otherwise."

The pair stood on the riverbank, it was silent but for the rush of water this far out of the city.

"He'll wash up you know, eventually," Callum said, withdrawing a cigarette pack from his duffel coat, offering Casey one, which she took. He shielded her lighter with his hands, the wind was kicking up.

"Thanks," Casey said, breathing out a stream of smoke which was quickly whipped away into the night. Casey didn't own or have access to a fork lift, so she'd needed assistance to remove Rufus from her apartment. Callum was an associate of her fathers, he was her age, and they'd grown up together. He was scum, but she knew him well enough to know he'd help her out. Not out of altruism, but he was the best she could come up with short notice.

"Whatta you want me to tell Jak?" Callum broached after the silence became awkward.

"Nothing, he'll figure it out," Casey said, "you better get going."

"That's it?" Callum said. He seemed annoyed.

"Pretty much," Casey breezed, staring out over the rushing water. Carrying away Rufus. Carrying away the evidence.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" Callum pressed. He'd gotten closer. She could feel the heat of his smoke tainted breath on her face.

"Thanks." Casey chirped abruptly.

Callum frowned, "you know, I've risked my life here to help you hide a body, I'd expect a little more gratitude."

Casey chuckled coldly, "I'll send you a fruit basket."

Callum was not amused, he grabbed Casey's shoulders, pushing her back against the breezeblock struts of the nearby bridge.

"You think you can talk to me like that?" He snarled.

Casey huffed, "what, did you expect me to drop to my knees and make you feel _really _appreciated?"

"Would be a start,"

"You're a prick Cal,"

He was practically frothing at the mouth now, "I'm a prick? I saved your fucking ass, and if I'm such a prick, why was I the first person you called, huh?"

"Because, I know you've wanted to wanted to get into my pants since high school, and you're definitely pathetic enough to commit a felony just to get laid?"

"Oh yeah? Maybe I should show you how _pathetic _I am!"

Casey had to keep her nerve,

"Oh, right, and I lifted your gun last week. That's would be the one I used on Rufus. I dropped it in the mailbox when you were busy hauling Rufus into the truck. It'll be at the DA's office in a couple of days…unless I intercept it."

Callum backed away, eyes wide, "you bitch, you fucking bitch! You've screwed me!"

Casey shrugged, "not in this lifetime. The gun stays hidden unless you open your mouth."

"How do I know you won't just frame me anyways," Callum said, voice shaking.

"Because unlike you, I actually care what happens to your wife and kids, who by the way, you should get back to. It's getting late." Casey began the ascent up the riverbank.

"You're a bitch!" Callum called after her, voice hoarse.

"Only when I need to be," Casey muttered under her breath.

Casey waited until she saw Callum's van pull away before she started to cry.

Self defence is not a valid defence for pre-meditated murder.

Perhaps Casey could argue that she clearly hadn't pre-meditated enough. Sure, she'd had the foresight to steal Callum's gun and stow it before the trial, but she hadn't really planned all this. It was all 'on your feet' thinking.

She just didn't have a silencer. She knew Callum did. Buying one so close to the murder might have been suspect. Not that she'd planned to murder Rufus.

She did what she had to do.

Sure, the cops might have put her in witness protection, shunted her out of the way. But that wouldn't have helped her mom, or little sister.

Casey wasn't naïve enough to think the authorities could protect her, sure they had greater resources than her father, but they had something else. Rules, principals.

She had those too, but in this murky world, they were a stumbling block.

Her father didn't have any moral restrictions when it came to teaching her lessons, she knew that all too well. He'd get her somehow, even if it had to be vicarious.

Casey had to deal with this herself. And there was only one language her Father and his type understood: violence.

So she'd responded in kind.

Oddly, after her initial outburst of tears, she didn't feel bad about what she'd done.

She felt disconnected. Just as she had when she'd snapped the trigger.

Sometimes it felt like there were two Casey Novaks'.

One was ADA Casey Novak, SVU prosecutor. A principled lawyer who worked tirelessly to ensure criminals are brought to justice, and had sworn to uphold the laws of her country.

The other was Casimir "Casey" Micha Novak - daughter of notorious career criminal Jak Novak, and heir apparent to New York's most dangerous former Soviet Bloc criminal gang. Even her real name, which she'd dropped due to most people's inability to pronounce it, spoke to a different life.

Her adopted name, Casey was gaelic in origin, and meant "vigilant, or brave".

Her given name was Polish in origin, and roughly translated to "Destroyer of Peace".

The latter seemed more apt right now.

But sat in her car, driving to Alex's apartment, she needed to quickly become the former.

* * *

"Are we U-Hauling?" Alex piped up suddenly.

"What?" Casey responded after a beat. The couple were sprawled on Alex's couch, entangled. Casey laid on her back, Alex flopped out on top of her. The television flickered in the corner, a stony faced journalist conjectured about the cause of unrest in some far away country Casey hadn't quite caught the name of.

"You know, moving too fast, lesbian merging…"

Casey blinked slowly. She really didn't not want a 'relationship' talk right now. Or ever for that matter. She found you could discuss the fun out of anything if you tried hard enough,

"I don't think so, it's not like we're engaged," Casey mumbled, wracking her brain for a change of subject. Nothing came to mind.

"You have a drawer," Alex offered up.

"It's a drawer," Casey sighed, "it was your idea."

Alex sighed, "I wanted you to have somewhere to put your stuff."

"All right then," Casey said, hoping that was the end of it.

"So, you're fine with it?"

Casey scrunched her eyes, praying for patience. This was hardly the most pressing matter at this moment, but Alex was not relenting, "sure."

Alex hopped up abruptly and walked into the kitchen. Had she said something wrong? She leaned her head back against the couches armrest, scrunching her eyes shut. Her head ached like a bastard. She wanted sleep, but she knew that would not be forthcoming. In the dark behind her eyelids, she heard Alex's footsteps return her to the living room. Something cold pressed into her palm. She opened her eyes to see Alex crouched next to the sofa, staring. Expectant. She brought her hand up and opened it.

A key.

"What's this for?" Casey said, for lack of anything better to say.

Alex shrugged, looking bashful all of a sudden, "here, my apartment."

Casey stared for a moment at the jagged piece of metal. It was meant to mean something, but her mind was overwhelmed, "why would I need this? I only come over here when you're in."

Alex huffed, a look of hurt passed over her face just for a second, then her mask was back. Cool. Expressionless. Alex did that a lot. Hiding her feelings. Thoughts. Casey figured it was pride, not secrets.

"Fine, you don't want it?" Alex bit out tersely as she took up perch on the edge of the sofa.

Casey took a moment. Took a breath. Her life was heading down the shitter as it was without fucking things with Alex up too. She forced a smile, and pulled her keyring out of her pocket, attaching the new key with deliberate care.

"Of course I do," she soothed, pulling Alex down to her chest in a lovers embrace, "I just. I'm sorry. I'm tired."

"You should think before you speak sometimes," Alex mumbled, words distorted by Casey's chest.

"I know," Casey whispered, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss atop Alex's head.

"Bed?" Alex said.

"Good idea," Casey sighed.

The room was silent except for breathing, Alex's smooth and slow, Casey's growing laboured and ragged.

Alex had walked her backward, a playful shove put her on her back and Alex had strutted playfully as she unbuttoned her blouse, letting it slip to the floor, letting Casey's eyes drink in her body in the orange burnished lamplight.

"You're beautiful," Casey had whispered, involuntarily. Alex's lips had twitched a slight smirk as she straddled her, moving in slow motion, teasing. Casey had gripped her bed sheets beneath her as Alex unfastened her bra, freeing her small, but perfectly formed breasts. She ached to reach out and touch. But she couldn't.

Alex slid her hands up Casey's tee-shirt, warms hands moving slowly over her stomach. Their lips met, Alex's tongue was warm, wet, sensual inside her mouth. But this wasn't right. It was too close. These two lives she led, they were separated.

Not by space or matter, but at the least by time. It was too close. Hours ago the same fingers that twitched against the duvet covers had squeezed the harsh metal of a pistol, ending a life. A bad life, but a life all the same. The same hands that brought pain, they couldn't now bring pleasure. She needed time.

She needed sleep.

She flopped back against the bed, averting her eyes to the dead light bulb. Being so close to Alex was intoxicating. She needed air.

"I'm sorry, I'm not feeling it," Casey said, voice tight, "I need sleep baby."

Alex leaned over her, her bare breasts pressing to Casey's still clothed chest, "come on." Alex breathed into her ear, close enough that Casey could feel her lips brush.

It felt right, but it wasn't. Casey wrapped her arms around Alex, rolling her over so they were side by side. A sound of consternation emitted from her girlfriend, which suggested she had now given up.

"Lets sleep," Casey said, searching into Alex's eyes. Again, there was a flicker of puzzlement, pain, and then it was gone. The mask was back. Casey figured a girl like Alex, she wasn't used to being turned down. Under normal circumstances, Casey wouldn't be able to refuse. But these were not normal circumstances.

"Alright," Alex said, voice forcedly chipper. She hopped out of bed, swiping up her abandoned bra and blouse, tossing them into the laundry basket. Alex always tidied when she felt awkward, "I'm gonna brush my teeth."

Casey sighed, waiting for Alex to head to the bathroom before stripping off and sequestering herself beneath the covers.

She wouldn't get much sleep tonight.

Her thoughts were tumbling, but she needed this. She needed to feel this. Remorse. That was her penance. Her father never felt that. But he wasn't human. And she was. At least she hoped so. It was so hard to know if what she was feeling, was she forcing it? How could she lie here with her girlfriend when Rufus was laying at the bottom of the river, wrapped in tarp and weighted with cement blocks. Decaying, bloating, wasting.

She put it out of her mind again. The only way she could deal with this was to split in two.

The Casey who now smiled an apologetic welcome as Alex returned, clothed in an oversize baseball shirt and climbed into bed was exactly who Alex thought she was. A caring, if sometimes thoughtless girlfriend, who was worn out after a long day, and who didn't want sex tonight, but still wanted comfort and cuddles. Alex conceded, placing a minty fresh kiss to Casey's lips and whispering goodnight.

Night it was, good it was not.

* * *

Morning hadn't crept so much as rushed up.

Alex had an errand of some sort to run, and had thus woken Casey at stupid o'clock. Casey herself wasn't in the office until eleven am, so had decided to make use that key. Alex had scowled around the bedroom as Casey sprawled glibly, starfish style whilst her girlfriend rushed about, leaving Casey to her lie in.

She'd dawdled getting ready, only leaving herself a half hour to make it to the office before rushing out the door.

The sunlight stung her eyes as she stepped out of Alex's apartment building, it was a quiet street this time of morning. But still, she didn't hear the men approach until the hard carbon of a gun butt met her forehead, sending her thoughts into empty black.


	6. Legacy

**A/N: Okay, so I cheated... I had half this chapter already written. So i've shockingly updated twice. It rambles a bit.  
**

**Chapter 6**

**Legacy**

Head: Sore.

Eyes: Open. No. Close. Open again. Too bright. Close. Harsh ceiling light.

Head: Sore. Very much so. Short sharp shocks. Concussion? Probably.

Mouth: Dry, coppery. Aftertaste of blood. Bit inside of cheek while falling.

Body: Upright. Sat. Restrained. Cuffs? No, narrow. Not cold. Plastic ties. Ankles as well as wrists.

Eyes: Open now, blinking blinking blinking. Room. Stale green walls, no windows, table. Steel bare. Suited man. Sitting. Smug.

Ears: Hearing. Even low voice sounds too loud. "Casey Novak I presume?"

* * *

Casey's head finally stopped spinning and she took in the man sitting opposite her in the cell, or interrogation room.

Fuck.

She'd been careful. How did this happen?

He was mid-thirties she guessed, slightly ruffled light brown hair, dark imposing brows. He wore a suit awkwardly, tie loosened as though he found it an uncomfortable imposition.

He wasn't one of her Dad's goons, one she'd already be dead, and two, she knew most all of them. He wasn't any cop she knew, so the situation was puzzling. Surely, if they'd picked up Rufus, it would be in her very own jurisdiction. Her mind was too muzzy. She blinked again against the harsh light

"Who the hell are you," Casey said.

"Special Agent Fredrick Arnott, FBI" he said, extending a hand for a shake before remembering her cuffs and thinking better of it, "you can call me Freddy."

Casey frowned, "Agent Arnott," she ground out deliberately, "does the bureau make a habit of assaulting and kidnapping officers of the court?"

Arnott shrugged, roughing the back of his hair, mussing it further, "not normally no, but then, most officers of the court aren't in the habit illegally dumping mobsters in the Hudson."

Casey's jaw fell open, but before she could recover her thoughts and parry, Arnott had raised his hand, "Novak, we fished Mr. Cope out of the river an hour after you dumped him. We've been watching you for some time."

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

Of course.

She was the daughter of a high profile gang boss. They'd been keeping tabs on her. Waiting for her to follow in her fathers footsteps. They could never nail Jakob Novak so nailing his daughter was the next best thing. Maybe they thought they could flip her.

Chance would be a fine thing.

Her father was a careful man. He made sure nothing led back to him. She couldn't rat him out if she wanted to.

She needed a plan B.

Too bad she hadn't had a plan A to begin with.

Casey fixed a neutral expression, "I was there when the body was dumped, what makes you think I killed him?"

Arnott clapped his hands together, "good question! Luckily, I have an answer," he reached beneath the table, and placed a manila envelope down in front of her, spreading the contents slowly. It was her and Rufus, last night, frame by frame, gun pulled, Rufus turns, then a freeze still of an explosion of crimson as the bullet exited. Casey's stomach lurched.

"It's not exactly Pulitzer material I know, but it tells a story, don'tcha think?" Arnott grinned dumbly. Casey shut her eyes. She didn't need a reminder. She'd done so well to bury those images, the shock, the fear as Rufus Cope realised he was living his last seconds. Drawing his last breath.

There was no point in trying to justify this. Arnott wanted something.

He had to, he had a body, and video tape of the crime in action. He didn't need a confession.

"How did you get that?" Casey asked.

Arnott shrugged, "surveillance cameras are tiny these days, I mean really tiny. You can hide them in damn near anything…we had a warrant, before you start your legal griping."

Casey shut her eyes. Probably the goddamned patriot act being abused again.

"What do you want from me?" Casey said. She wasn't going to bargain and plead like a fucking perp. She just wanted to get this over with.

"Straight to the point, I like that," Arnott said, drumming his fingers on the table. His nails were chewed to the quick, "okay, see, I've been following your old man's 'career' for quite some time. He's dangerous, but he's smart. Much like you."

Casey rolled her eyes, "spare me the…"

Arnott raised his hand again, "Novak. I know why you did what you did. You had to. It was a panicked response to an impossible situation. I get that. Cops and feds can't help you, hell, your Pa's been committing felonies since you were in diapers and we still haven't managed to pin so much as a fucking parking ticket on the bastard."

"So when's the bad cop coming in?" Casey asked. Her head smarted. She wanted to get out of here, in cuffs or not.

Arnott sighed, his glib look had finally abated, "Miss Novak, I'm not trying to play you. I know this is going to sound creepy, but I've been watching you a long time, I've read all your files. You know who you are - of course the bureau has been keeping an eye on you. You're one of us. The good guys. I've seen you in court, followed your trials. I've got an offer for you."

Casey cocked an eyebrow. This she was not expecting, "an offer?"

Arnott nodded, "you help me take down Jakob Novak, and I will get you total immunity. Mr. Cope stays buried."

This was insane. Arnott was insane. The Fed's were never known for playing fast and loose with the law.

"And how do I do that?" Casey asked.

"Well, we've been trying to get an undercover agent into Novak's setup for years, but they're tight as a drum. You've gotta come recommended and no one, so it seems, can be bought or threatened into giving a recommendation. You've got an in: Blood."

"You cannot be serious," Casey said. Since way back when she'd been press ganged into attempting a drug run as a teen, Casey had never taken part in her fathers shady dealings.

"Dead-ly." Arnott said.

"You say you've read my file, studied me. So you know I'm straight-laced. I'm a fucking ADA for christsakes, to my dad's unending disappointment," Casey said.

"We've been working on this for years, I'm positive we can get you in. All I ask is that you try. That's enough for me. I'll keep my end of the deal, even if the op fucks up, you'll still get your get out of jail free card."

"Okay, how?"

Arnott looked almost giddy, he hopped up, and pushed the intercom, "come in," the door opened, "Miss Novak, I believe you know Agent Huang?"

* * *

After Casey had gotten over the shock of seeing Huang, and the fact that her colleague had been spying on her in league with the bureau, they'd removed her restraints, got coffee and doughnuts and gone over the plan.

"Your father is a sociopath," Huang had explained. As though she didn't know already. Apparently that was the official psychological term for heartless bastard, "he revels in power, his narcissistic tendencies make him believe he's entitled to it, and he feels no remorse. He's simply not capable of those feelings."

She'd argued passionately that he'd never go for it. Her father was evil, but he was smart, very smart. He'd have to be an idiot to believe this sudden change of heart.

"Not necessarily," Huang had countered, "his weakness is his ego, and his belief in his destiny. His legacy. He was grooming Kovacevic to be his successor, But now you've put him away. We need to play to his sense of power, influence. He could be convinced. If you can play it right, he will be blinded to the lack of logic in your choice. He will believe that his genes are strong enough to change you, and he'll be compelled to go along with your change of heart - he needs an heir, the bait will be too strong for him to resist."

Casey frowned, considering it for a moment. Huang could be right. Her father was an egotistical maniac, and he had made occasional attempts over the years to get her on side, even though she'd rebuffed him every time. Maybe this was her out. Maybe this was her redemption. And the offer wasn't conditional on her catching him. Arnott had said she had to try. Even if she couldn't nail him, she'd get off on the murder rap. But still…

Casey shook her head, giving a little laugh despite herself, "you think I'll still be alive if this fails? And not just me…"

Arnott nodded, earnestly, "don't worry, we can get your Mother and Sister to safety if the shit hits the fan. It's in place, moments notice."

Casey chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, "there's an ADA Alex Cabot, I work with her and…"

Arnott nodded, with a slightly shy smirk, "your girlfriend, of course, we figured she could be targeted. We've got a plan in place for her too…"

Casey cringed. Of course he knew Alex was her girlfriend. Surveillance. She shuddered at the thought of Arnott getting his rocks off whilst watching one of their more intimate moments. It wouldn't matter if they hadn't planted cameras in the bedroom. Casey was quite certain they'd 'christened' every room in her apartment in the first few weeks of their relationship. Even her tiny office. That had made for interesting logistics.

She believed Huang and Arnott. They'd keep her mother and sister safe, and it's not like they had much going for them where they were. If anything, getting whisked away by WPP might improve their lot in life. But not Alex.

They'd talked about it. She knew how much Alex had hated hiding, lying every second of the day, leaving everyone and everything she knew. She'd said, on some of her more lonely nights that she'd almost wished the bullet hadn't missed.

No.

She couldn't put Alex through that again. So there was only one way to keep her safe. Even though it hurt like hell to even think it.

"Alright, I'll do it. But leave Cabot out of it. I'll talk to her. She won't be a target anymore."

Huang nodded, eyes sad. He knew what she was going to do. His acceptance confirmed - it was the only way,

"Just let me go see her, then I'm all yours, I'll do whatever you want."

* * *

Unfortunately, Alex had made a house call.

"Casey, we need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do," Alex said, crossing her arms, perching on the edge of the sofa.

Casey let out a deep sigh, slouching further down on the sofa. The ceiling spun a little,

"I meant what I said on the phone: we're done, leave." Casey ground out numbly, as though reading the words from a script. She knew it was shitty, and downright cowardly to break up with Alex on voicemail, but this is what she had wanted to avoid.

A 'conversation'.

Breaking up with Alex was hard enough without having to justify it.

"No. I'm going to make you a coffee, you're going to sober the hell up, and then you're going to explain what this was all about," Alex said, marching off to the kitchen defiantly. Casey pressed her palms against her eyes, attempting to ward off the dull thud in her head left by the half bottle of whisky she had downed to get up the courage to make the call to Alex.

Unfortunately, much like the headache, it seemed Alex wasn't going to go away.

She decided to try a different tactic.

She got to her feet and turned to see Alex straightening her glasses to get a better view on the mass of flashing buttons on her needlessly fancy coffee machine.

"Alex, you can't just refuse to let me break up with you," Casey said.

"Watch me," Alex said curtly, pressing buttons at random until the contraption gurgled to life.

"It's pathetic," Casey said, doing her best to sound scornful, nailing the other ADA with a glare. When Alex continued to ignore her, she added, "you're embarrassing yourself, it's over. Now leave, don't make me call the cops."

Her insults seemed to bounce right off the blonde, who remained stony faced as she approached Casey,

"Pathetic? You try to break up with me in a mumbling, half drunk voicemail message, and don't have the courage to even have an adult conversation about it and you're calling _me _pathetic?"

Casey turned her back on Alex, pacing away to the window. Her façade was slipping and a rage was starting to boil up inside her. Casey was breaking her own heart trying to protect this woman, and now Alex was refusing to leave her apartment, and insulting her to boot. She ground her teeth, she could wait this out. Alex was stubborn, but Casey was more than her match on that front.

"Alex, I don't want to talk about it, just go."

Casey felt Alex grip her arm, turning her about to bring them face to face,

"Casey, grow up, you can't treat me like I don't matter, I'm not one of your _many _casual fucks, I'm meant to be your girlfriend."

Casey swatted Alex's hand away, "fuck off Alex," she said, slowly and deliberately.

Alex shook her head, a tight smirk taking her lips, "you know what? Fine. I shouldn't have bothered. You're a spoiled, selfish little brat and I should have known better than to waste my time on you."

Alex glared, her pale blue eyes cold, emotionless as she let her words sink in before turning on her heel to walk away.

Casey clenched her fists. Alex's words ringing in her ears over and above any thoughts.

Selfish?

Coming from Alex, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Here she was, trying desperately to hold everything together with her job, her insane family, the secret life the feds had press-ganged her into, and she had made the aching choice to give up the one thing that was going good in her life, Alex, to protect her.

It was fucking selfless, and this was the thanks she got.

She was the bad guy.

She was immature.

She was a fucking bitch.

Fuck Alex.

Fuck this.

Fury running thick in her veins, Casey swiped vase off her window sill, and pelted it at the wall. The sound rung out in the silence as the pieces clattered to the ground and water spattered over the wall. Alex had halted in her departure, back still to Casey, paused.

Casey hadn't pitched it at Alex, just the wall. That didn't make it okay, but it damn sure was cathartic.

Alex turned around slowly, cocking an eyebrow at Casey, "well done Casey. Really, I'm impressed, that was very mature. You are aware this is _your _apartment you're wrecking?"

Her calm was maddening. Casey had had enough of this.

Casey crossed the room pushing Alex roughly against the wall, forearm across Alex's neck. Casey was unsure if the muted choking sound was surprise or if she'd actually pushed too hard,

"Fuck you Alex, you have no idea, _no _idea what I'm going through right now," Casey yelled, inches from Alex's face, "and if you think I'm being selfish by protecting you from the bullshit that's going on in my life, then you really don't know me at all. So why don't you fuck off back to your fucking apartment, and your fucking perfect little life and leave me the hell alone like I fucking told you too!"

Casey remained frozen for a moment, catching her breath as the anger began to drain out of her and she realized what she'd done. Alex was wide eyed and silent, and had an expression which mirrored one Casey herself had worn many a time, backed into a corner, waiting for another bitter word, or a palm, or a fist from her father. Alex was scared. She had elicited that fear.

What the fuck had she done.

Casey backed away slowly, her thoughts coming a million a minute, raking her hands through her hair as she leaned against the kitchen counter, sliding down to a crouched position. Maybe Arnott's assignment wasn't going to be such a stretch after all. She'd already started acting just like dear old daddy.

After what seemed like hours, Alex approached, slowly. Still painfully silent.

Casey bit her lip, willing the tears welling up to stay put to no avail. She wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her forehead against them to hide her face from Alex. Curled up in her own personal cocoon, she hoped she could block out the world, block out Alex, block out everything.

Alex wasn't having it though.

She felt a hand softly cup her chin, Alex was crouched in front of her, and she tilted Casey's face up until their eyes met. Her expression was unreadable.

"Are you done now?" She asked.

Casey nodded, afraid to speak, her voice would likely give way to tears and she felt pathetic enough as it was.

"Good," Alex said, softly. Without warning, Alex slapped her full in the face. She struck with an open palm, so it was noisier than it was painful, but she could still feel her cheek warming rapidly from the impact as Alex cupped her face again, "you are never to do that to me again, you got that?"

"Sorry," Casey croaked out, "I'm sorry if I scared you, I just…"

Alex let out a heavy sigh and sat down next to Casey, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Casey didn't have the resolve left to resist, so instead she leant in, gratefully resting her head on the other womans shoulder.

"Takes a lot more than a tantrum to scare me Case," Alex said.

"All this time I've been scared of turning into my mother," Casey muttered, almost to herself, "never thought to watch out for becoming my father."

"Why is it you've never told me anything about my parents?."

Casey settled herself more comfortably against Alex, her former determination dissolved, "I guess maybe it's time I did."

**A/N: I knew you guys are feeling a little sorry for Alex, apologies, I shall try to have some warm and fuzzies soon, it's just a rather dark mobster story so it's a little difficult**


	7. Girls Interrupted

**A/N I finally managed to write an update. I shall attempt more frequent ones from now on! Thank you for the nice reviews, in light of you folks enjoying the Alex/Caseyness I've decided to include more of it (originally I was going to write Alex out a few chapters back, but heyho, I think fics are always better with a bit of romance)**

**Chapter 7: Girls Interrupted **

"I don't know where to begin," Casey said. Her head felt heavy. All she wanted to do was sleep, but Alex wasn't about to allow that. They had moved to the sofa, Alex had made coffee, black, strong. Casey laid on her side, head on Alex's lap. In truth, she did know where to begin.

She didn't know where to stop.

After her outburst Casey had realized that her secrets were bearing down on her. She needed to open up. She'd kept her own company, been her own sounding board and mediator. It felt strange to let someone in.

She wanted to open up to Alex, tell Alex who she really was. But that was impossible. Casey was hardly sure herself anymore.

It made sense to start at the beginning.

"My Dad is a career criminal, and my Mom was a whore," Casey began.

Alex tutted, "don't say that…"

Casey shook her head slightly, "no, I mean really, she was a whore, and a heroin addict. My Dad, I guess you could say he was her pimp. He rented her out, and sometimes sampled his own merchandise so to speak. She got pregnant, and he was the only one she'd sleep with without protection, that's how he knew I was his. She was fifteen at the time…"

She laid out the facts in a flat monotone. If she thought about it too hard, she would only start sobbing.

"Oh my god," Alex whispered.

Casey continued, "he did the honourable thing, took her in, got her off the drugs. She was doing good. She wanted to go back to school after I was born, get her life together. Then after I was born, Dad always loved to tell me this story, he gave her a choice. All the junk she could shoot, or her daughter. She'd been clean for the entire pregnancy. She took the first option, so my Dad raised me. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, take over his 'empire'."

"But you became an ADA?" Alex interjected.

"I've never been very good at doing as I'm told. I think his lessons had the opposite of the intended effect on me. When I was eighteen, I left for college, never looked back."

"So the tattoo?"

Casey flinched at the memory, "one of his 'lessons'. The old eastern European mafia types have a big tradition with tattoos. He wanted to leave his mark, show me who was boss. He made me do a delivery for him and I fucked it up. So he shot me, and then he made me get that. So I'd never forget who was in charge."

Alex stroked Casey's hair gently, "so why'd he let you go your own way?"

Casey sighed, "he didn't really. He figured if I got into law enforcement, eventually I'd come round, and I'd be his girl on the inside. The Kovacevic rape case, that's the first time he tried to call in that favour, he wanted me to get him off."

"But you didn't?"

Casey nodded, "I thought about it. But I couldn't do it. So now I'm marked."

Alex paused, before whispering, "your Dad would kill you?"

Casey tensed. No way she could tell Alex about Rufus. Sure, her girlfriend had been all sympathetic and horrified up to now. But so far Casey had been the victim, not the perpetrator. Alex had lead a happy, sheltered life, and had a black and white view of good and bad. She couldn't possibly comprehend that Casey's act was necessary evil.

"Unless I do something about it," Casey said.

"We need to call the station, Don could get a protective detail put on your place, or you could stay here and…"

Casey interrupted, "until when? Forever? Dad's not gonna get his hands dirty, he'll send one of his goons. He has to. I disobeyed him, and if I get away with it, he'll lose respect. And without respect, he has no power."

"So what are you going to do?"

"The FBI contacted me. They want me to be a double agent."

"No, no way. It's too dangerous, you're a lawyer for god sake, they can't expect you to…"

"I agreed to it. I'm meeting with Huang in a few days to work out the details."

Alex tapped Casey's shoulder, ousting her from her lap. She stood up, snatching her glasses off and nibbling nervously on them as she paced.

"You need to back out, they shouldn't even be asking you,"

Casey stood up to, interrupting Alex's pacing with a firm embrace, "I have to."

Under normal circumstances, she'd agree with Alex's stance. Casey was her own person, she wasn't responsible for her fathers actions. She didn't owe it to the FBI or anyone else to help stop him just because she happened to share DNA with the bastard.

But thanks to Rufus Cope's sizable corpse, they owned her.

It was blackmail, but her position was untenable. She had to comply.

"It's not your responsibility, they should use an undercover agent, someone who has chosen to take that risk, " Alex said, resting her head heavily on Casey's shoulder.

"I know the risks Alex, and I have to do it. I've looked the other way all my life, I'm the only one who can get inside his organisation, and if I don't… then the blood of every person he kills, every junkie who OD's, every hooker on his books who gets popped, that's all on my hands. Besides, the only other choice is witness protection, do you really want that?"

Alex tensed, "at least you'd be safe."

"All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing," Casey quoted.

"You don't have anything to feel guilty about," Alex soothed. If only she knew.

Casey broke the hug, broke out of the fantasy, "I've made my choice. It's done. Now you have to make yours."

Alex looked puzzled, "what?"

Casey flopped down on the sofa, "now you know, if you want out, I won't blame you."

Alex took her place beside Casey on the sofa, "like I said Case, I don't scare easy. Seriously, if you want to get rid of me, you'll have to do better than trying to scare me off with a homicidal mob boss father story. We'll see this through together."

Casey knew letting Alex stay wasn't right. She knew being with her would put Alex's life in danger.

But in that moment, Casey felt weak. She'd carried this burden alone so long, she couldn't fight Alex off anymore. She rested her head on Alex's shoulder closing her eyes. Alex put her arm around Casey's shoulders. A protective gesture. Casey made a silent promise to herself. She would protect Alex. Allowing herself this one comfort, a partner, a lover would be her single concession, a risk worth taking.

_The following day_

This was Casey's definition of hell.

Casey blinked against harsh fluorescent lights, her weary legs propelling her along on instinct. She had been here so long, she no longer even had the energy to look around for escape routes.

She wasn't getting out of here. Not for a long time.

Her captor glanced back at her, smirking at her expression of utter resignation. She felt like she'd been walking forever.

Finally they came to a stop. Casey took the opportunity to rest on a bench, whilst her captor disappeared into a small booth. It seemed like hours before she re-emerged.

"Casey, what do you think? I'm still not sure…" Alex emerged from the dressing room, wearing a figure hugging sleeveless dress which to Casey's untrained eyes looked identical to the other dress Alex had tried on the other side of the mall.

Casey hated shopping with a passion, and her interest in Alex's clothing was limited to the ease with which it could be removed.

"It looks great, so did the last three-hundred you tried on…" Casey groaned, jamming the heels of her palms into her eye sockets in an attempt to rouse some wakefullness.

"Do I detect a note of crankiness Miss Novak?" Alex said, placing her hands on her hips.

Casey shrugged, "you know I hate shopping."

Alex approached slowly, deliberately in a gait which could only be defined as a strut, she brushed the back of her fingers across Casey's cheek and said in a low voice, "and didn't I say I would make it worth your while?" Casey couldn't help smiling. Alex continued, "I still can't believe you hate shopping. I should revoke your ovaries."

"Be my guest," Casey muttered, "it's not like I have much use for them anyway."

"What if we decide to have kids one day?" Alex asked.

Casey smirked, "you'd have them?"

"What, because you're the big butch softball player and I'm the shopping loving, romcom watching femme?" Alex said mockingly, tugging Casey's cheek. Casey stood up, wrapping her arms around Alex's slim hips and pulling her their bodies together.

"Exactly princess," Casey drawled. Her patronising pet name had exactly the desired effect, Alex's features contorted into a petulant scowl.

"Well if the wife beater fits…" Alex said, snapping the collar of Casey's vest.

"You bought me this vest," Casey retorted.

"I just wanted to help you maintain the illusion of being a top," Alex leaned close and whispered, "even though we both know that's not true…"

Casey rolled her eyes, "alright, alright. Can we go get some coffee or something now?"

"_One_ more shop first…" Alex said, smiling sweetly. Casey nodded and watched as her girlfriend scampered off back into the dressing room. She knew what one more shop in Alex language meant. She would not be getting her prescribed dose of caffeine for at least an hour.

Alex was lucky she was so goddamn sexy.

AAAAA

So many shops Casey lost count and one well deserved coffee later, they were finally back at Alex's place. Casey wasted no time dumping the copious shopping bags she'd been sweet talked into hauling into the apartment onto the sofa, and before Alex could leave the hallway, Casey intercepted her, tangling one hand in her blonde mane and pinning her to the wall with her body. She brushed her lips against Alex's ever so slightly. Alex tried to kiss her, but Casey held her fast, eliciting a grumpy pout.

"We've spent all day doing something you enjoy," Casey whispered hotly into Alex's ear, "now I think we should do something we both enjoy."

Alex moved to slip her hands up Casey's vest, but Casey caught her wrists and pinned them to the wall either side of her head.

"Not so fast," Casey smiling at Alex's frustrated glare, "you were the one complaining that I'm not a top…I'm just trying to give you what you want."

She placed a faint kiss on Alex's lips, teasingly brief, then moved down her neck, revelling in the frustrated moans Alex's was stifling ineffectually.

"_Casey!" _Alex ground out, protesting her restraint further. Casey released her wrists, but only to free up a hand which she quickly slid up Alex's conveniently bare thigh. Just as Casey had successfully manoeuvred her fingers past Alex's lacy underwear, her cell buzzed angrily in her pocket.

"You should get that," Alex said breathily. Casey knew Alex didn't mean that. She was right however. It could be work. Or the FBI.

Both of which came above her need to get laid.

"Fucking typical," Casey muttered, backing away from Alex and retrieving the ringing device from her pocket.

"Novak." She answered abruptly.

"Casey, it's me, Freddy, where you at?" Chirped the voice of the annoyingly upbeat FBI agent. Casey wished she'd let him go to voicemail.

"I'm busy, what is it?" Casey barked out.

"Oh, geez, sorry, you at work?" the Agent asked.

"No, I'm with someone…" Casey said, not wishing to elaborate. Still, Arnott seemed to get the picture.

"Oh…sorry, am I being a total cockblock? My Dad used to say it was like I had a sixth sense, any time he was about to get down to it with my mom, bam! I'd walk in wanting cookies or monsters chasing from under my bed. I guess that's why I'm an only child…"

"Arnott!" Casey snapped, "did you call me for a reason?"

"Yeah, but it can wait, wouldn't want to interrupt you and Miss Cabot's special time…"

Casey threw Alex an apologetic smile, "that ship has sailed. What do you want?"

"We can't discuss it over the phone. There's a coffee place a block from Miss Cabot's place. Kathy's Koffee, with a K. Can you believe that? Guess the broad can't spell, I mean…"

"Fine. I'll see you in half an hour." Casey said, and ended the call. This FBI shtick was already getting on her last nerve.


End file.
